Pouring Up

For Leanne, Elizabeth, and Megan

This is what praying
looks like: “Pour in
us deeper;” hearts
drop to sleeping;
grass grows in
between syllables. 

In between our red
cheeks and our eyelashes,
the truth kneels
on our noses. 

Prayers are our
interlocked fingers
and noiseless lips—
he already knows
and so do we: 

each star has already
blossomed and we
are wilting in their
places. Gladly I’ll
take our suffering; 

that is what prayer
does. Spread us
thick across each
other’s curled backs
and let our whispers
burn our cheeks 

like marks of beauty.